Indigo
by Twistedsystem009
Summary: Darkness, death, and despair cloud Ivy's soul, obscuring the flames hidden behind those burning indigo eyes. With no one left to love her, she's just a legend. The girl in the riverbed, the essence of fire. Only one person can bring out the fire. Only one person can love her the way no one else can. Only one person can save her.
1. Chapter 1 Darkest Light

**Sorry it's been so long since I've written! I've just been SO busy with school and everything, I've forgotten to post anything in a while. I haven't forgotten about writing completely, though. I've started on the next chapter of As Cold As Ice and I intend to work on this fanfiction and ACAI for a while, which means the rest of my fanfictions are on stand-by/hiatus. Anyway, This idea has been brewing in my head since this afternoon (?) and I need to start writing, or I'll lose it. Hope you enjoy!**

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_He hunched over, warming himself on the fire burning the logs in front of him. In the distance, he spied the midnight blue water rippling. He stood and skirted the edge of the campfire, crossing to the border between road and vast hills. He shielded his eyes against the night and squinted, peering out at the wide lake. A spot on the riverbed rippled again, but a shape emerged this time. Behind him, the orange flames roared, exposing the figure's features. It was a woman. A woman with indigo eyes-flaming indigo eyes. Inside of those eyes there was a soul. A soul engulfed in darkness, death, and fire. She was the essence of fire; the essence of fire burning in water. Silent fear covered her soul, yet her face remained blank. Her fingers clawed the riverbed. Rocks were torn from their spot. Then she bolted upright, a shriek tearing through the night and releasing the pent up fear in her flaming eyes. She began to claw at her shoulders and throat, her nails leaving marks not unlike those of a beast. When the screams stopped, the woman fell back, raven black hair making a cloud around her face. He stumbled backwards, fear gripping him. He hit a log and tumbled backwards. Backwards into the fire._

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Indigo was all she could see. Flames gripping the tree trunks and uprooting them, the vicious screams of men burning on an open fire, villages being destroyed before her eyes. Then it was replaced by indigo. The smell of juniper and snow berries filled the air-her two favorite fruits. Children's laughter filled the air and she smiled. The feeling of wind blowing through her hair-then screams. Her skin became hot and indigo flames felled a tree, blocking her path. Her parents screamed her name, but it was too late. She was being drowned in the lake and burned at the same time. And there she would remain. There she would grow. The old burned, ivy covered house that she had once lived in still stood, and the lake that she had died in still rippled with her presence. She still remained. Though no one knew, for everyone who had known never lived to tell the story. They always burned.

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Sunlight flooded Ivy's bare form. She tried sinking back into the water, into the riverbed, but the ground was solid. She tore at the rocks and mud, her beast-like nails making deep trenches. She screamed, the pain unbearable. Eventually, she relaxed, panting, turning on her back and propping herself up on her elbows. Her throat ached and her body burned with restlessness. She turned and cupped her pale hands, letting water fill them. She lifted them to her full lips and drank, the cool water refreshing and reviving. She pushed back her dark hair, blindly stumbling out of the still water, lifting her flaming indigo eyes to sun. Shielding her eyes, she saw the house on the hill. She staggered towards it, tripping over pale feet and hair clouding her vision. When she reached the house, the breath left her, like she had taken a blow to the stomach. Images and sounds clogged her memory, blocking out the sunlight filtered through the branches. When she stepped inside, pain gripped her chest, making her double over, panting. She walked blindly through the halls, until she tripped on a piece of cloth. A shriek echoed from the kitchen and red blood pooled around Ivy's head. She turned on her back, glancing around the stone hallway, her eyes landing on the kitchen doors. She stood, clutching her head injury. Throwing open the doors, she saw that there was no one inside. She slid her smooth hands over a splintered wooden cupboard.

When she finally turned on the scorched room, she knelt down in the hallway and swept her hands across the spot where she had fallen. Warm blood filled the spaces between her bony fingers. She reached for the cloth that she had tripped on and wrapped it around her slight figure, pulling the ends into a tight knot before continuing on. As she continued through the hall, she noticed a flickering light. Slowly, Ivy crept towards the brightness. In a room just off the to the left of the corridor, a lantern flashed harmlessly on a table, a leather bound journal lying beside it. Ivy took both in hand and lifted the lantern. Before her lay a burned corpse. Ivy shrieked and spun on her heel, blindly feeling her way up a set of stairs and to a balcony. She threw open a set of doors, letting sunset make a large pool at her feet. Heart pounding against her ribcage, Ivy leaped over the fence marking the edge of the wooden overhang and jumped. She landed cat-like on the ground, eyes darting through the thick tree trunks. She ran. All through the night, her form darted across the velvety green blankets, thin shoulders heaving with exhaustion and long legs making huge strides. By the time light graced the plains of Skyrim's never ending expanse, Ivy had arrived only a mile away from Whiterun's solid stone wall.

And there her endeavor would begin.


	2. Chapter 2 Steady Stare

Ivy twisted and turned, successfully, and ignorantly, avoiding the scavenger's attacks. The swordsman was weak malnourished, giving Ivy an advantage over him, with her new strength. Yet he seemed to get the best of her. She fell on her back, holding her arms up in weak defense. As the man lifted his sword over his head, jets of indigo flames burst from Ivy's palms, burning him. Savage screams of torture filling the air, his charred corpse tumbled to the ground. Panic tearing at her throat, Ivy nimbly untied the laces on his armour and threw the hides over her own body, throwing off the cloth that she had donned before leaving her former home. As she continued to stumble along under the sunlight beating down on her back, Ivy spotted a stone wall towering over farms, stables, and other signs of civilization. She began to walk faster, purpose filling her offbeat strides and determination in her flaming eyes. Eventually, she reached a stable, panting as her thin legs shook, daring to buckle beneath her. A young stable hand called for his father, dropping a full water pail in the process. His father, the stable master, strode out from under the cover of the horse's paddock. "Aye, Jervar! Give the poor girl some water!" He demanded, placing a hand on Ivy's shoulder. She lifted her head and gave him an indigo stare. "Gods above!" Jervar declared, the bottle of water shaking in his thick hands. The stable master backed away, allowing Jervar to take on the flaming stare. Jervar handed her the water, then slowly backed away, eyes wide. She tilted her head back and let the cool liquid flow through her parted lips. "Thank you." She said, her voice somewhere between smooth and raspy as she struggled to continue on. "Aye."

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Vilkas sat on the wall of Jorvaskr, letting the soft breeze play across his face. Behind him, the training yard sat empty, the silver platters of meat abandoned. Below him, Heimskr paused in his chanting, then resumed, voice only slightly shaking. Vilkas glanced down to see what had stopped him and noticed a sliver of a girl with silky hair clutching her side, marching up the stairs to Jorvaskr. Vilkas dropped down from the wall and crossed the grass in merely two strides, then grabbed the girl's arm, spinning her in his direction. A set of flaming indigo eyes stared back at him. The girl was thin-much too thin to be healthy-and tall, with silky black hair that fell down to her rib cage in curtains. It was her eyes that intrigued Vilkas, though. He had never seen such vibrant and lively eyes. If he looked deep enough, he could see a hidden darkness and inner fire. "And where d'you think you're going?" He asked. Her face remained stony and her eyes flashed. "Anywhere." She answered finally, her voice catching. Vilkas frowned. "What are you running away from?" She kept her stare steady, but pain crossed her face. She wrenched herself free of his loosened grip and spun on her heel, letting her hair cover her tears.

**I'm really sorry for the short chapters, it angers me too, but the later ones will get longer as I pack more information in them. Besides, it's just fanfiction. I don't have to write a frickin' twelve paragraph intro. Love you guys :)**


	3. Chapter 3 Bound By Will

**So...I'm starting this chapter out from Ysolda's POV. She's not really a main character, but I didn't want Vilkas to chase Ivy. Anyway, enjoy!**

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Ysolda left the Bannered Mare feeling slightly tipsy and completely exhausted. Before she was able to trip down the stone stairs and face plant into the streets, she turned her head to the sound of someone sobbing quietly. A young woman leaned against the side of Arcadia's Cauldron, face lifted to the moonlight, exposing the tear tracks on her pale cheeks. Hide armour hung loosely off of her slight frame. Flaming indigo eyes flooded with tears. Suddenly overwhelmed with concern, Ysolda went to comfort her. "Excuse me?" She called, drawing the woman's attention. Only then did Ysolda realize that she was no more of a girl than a woman; 18, at the youngest. She turned her head, the tear tracks on her shallow cheeks only slightly visible now. "Are you alright?" Ysolda asked, keeping her distance. The girl nodded, though it was a lie. "Do you need somewhere to stay?" Ysolda moved closer. Another nod. "My house is right around the corner, if you want to stay there. Normally, I would suggest the inn-" She jerked her thumb in the direction of the building echoing with drunken barks of laughter"-but Mikael, the bard, is the worst. He'll attempt to woo any wench." While Ysolda rambled during the short walk back to her house, the girl continued to nod. "This is it. I have a tub in the back...if you don't mind, what is your name?" Ysolda lingered with her hand on the doorknob. "Ivy." Her voice caught. "Alright, Ivy. Like I shaid, dere's a dub in back." Ysolda slurred, the alcohol finally catching up with her. "You can get water from 'de well, and fill up the dub." Ivy nodded and turned on her heel, silky hair flashing in the moonlight.

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Sliding into the cool water, painful memories flooded Ivy's mind. She quickly pulled herself under water, then above, letting the tears wash away. The man with the blue eyes lingered in her mind, though his touch had washed away with the tears. Her armour lay off to the side, discarded in a heap of brown hides. Leaning her head against the edge of the wooden tub, Ivy closed her eyes and continued to picture the man with the piercing eyes. What about his question had knocked down her walls? What about his face had lowered the barrier around her heart? What about him had broken her? The questions made her pause and bite her lower lips so hard it bled. Cupping water in her palms, Ivy washed away the blood. Streaks of vivid red slowly mixed with the water, until they were gone. Her hair hung tangled at her shoulders, as she used a linen lying near the tub to dry off, then change into her armour. Ever so slowly, Ivy made her way back to the red-headed woman's house. Had she said her name? Ivy was unable to recall their conversation, though it hadn't been much of a conversation. When Ivy entered the small cottage, warmth filled her. Though the fire was only a single flickering flame, it warmed her all the same. Quietly, Ivy peered around a corner to catch a glimpse of the woman collapsed on a small bed, mouth agape in sleep. A smile crossed Ivy's features, then disappeared, as she realized that it hurt to smile. Before she pulled out a bedroll, Ivy threw juniper and snow berries into a cup and boiled it, then drank it quickly. That night, nightmares haunted her and sleep became her own personal oblivion.

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Vilkas strode down the steps to the market, bouncing a coin purse in his hand. He squinted through the brightness and glanced around the bustling market square. At one stand, Carlotta Valentia, a single mother, leaned against her counter, calling out to customers. At another, Anoriath, a Bosmer huntsman, twiddles his thumbs and eyed the meat he was selling hungrily. At the last stall, Frailia Graymane fussed over the lack of jewelry on one of her clients. The client happened to be the girl he had seen last night. He went to stand behind her and whispered in her ear, "You never answered my question." She flinched and turned, glaring. "The past." She said simply. He tilted his head. "I'm running from the past." She concluded. Before she could run away again, he grabbed her elbow and asked, "Why?" She averted her eyes. "Why are you asking me all these questions?" She countered. "Just trying to keep Whiterun safe. You'd never believe some of the people we get in here." He smirked, a teasing tone to his voice. Her face went blank. "I'm not a very open person." She replied, wrenching herself free of his grasp. Fralia stared at him, and opened her mouth to scold him, but he was already running after her. "As a member of the Companions, I demand you answer me." He called after her. They both stopped. She turned to face him. "I don't care if you're the emperor, I'm not going to answer your questions." She yelled, catching the attention of everyone on the streets, but she didn't seem to notice. "Why?" Vilkas repeated stubbornly, crossing his arms. "Because it hurts. Surprising, isn't it? The lonely girl is afraid to talk about her past because it 'hurts'." Her tone became bitter. "Take a good look, lonely girl's gone insane!" She took a step closer. "I'd leave if I had anywhere else to go; I swear." She laughed derisively. "If I _could _leave. Bound here by both will and force; forced to leave, having the will to go." She closed her eyes briefly, and when they opened, they were burning brighter than they had been before. A jet of indigo flames shot from her palms with the next sentence. "I've never had a choice."

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**MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Cliff hanger. I'm a jerk. Love you guys 3 **


	4. Chapter 4 Affection

**I'm back! It turns out I actually have a lot of spare time on my hands. I'm currently on break (which I forgot when I last updated my 'update section' of my profile) so I'll probably ONLY write and play Skyrim all break. Well...enjoy reading!**

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She collapsed into a heap of black and brown. Vilkas stepped forward to sling her over his shoulder and assure the citizens that she meant no harm. "Carlotta, would you mind if she stays with you for the night? Jorvaskr has no more room for guests." Vilkas asked sweetly. She glared. "Ask Ysolda. I think she 'took her in' last night." Carlotta replied, commencing to wipe her stall counter, as she cast Ysolda a suggestive glance. "Aye! Ysolda!" He called. She spun on her heel, eyes wide. "Would you mind taking in this...charming young lady for the night?" Ysolda rubbed her eyes and glanced at the girl, then replied, "Of course. Be a dear and put her on my bed, will you?" Vilkas nodded sharply and trodded towards the small shack that the trader kept house in. Once inside the cottage, he turned the only corner, set the girl on the bed, and pushed her hair away from her face. When those indigo eyes weren't staring him down, she didn't seem so intimidating. She looked...pretty. He laughed inwardly. 'Pretty'...he sounded like a child pining after a stupid crush. She did, though. Her hair spread out across the sheets, pale hands clasping over her stomach, composed expression...she was beautiful. He reached forward and rested a hand on hers, then pulled it away. Clearing his throat, Vilkas turned to leave and thought, _Nothing about that girl is appealing...nothing except her beauty. Alright, I'll allow her admirable, but nothing else. You cannot allow yourself to think like this, Vilkas. She's a girl. _

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Ivy stirred slowly, her vision blurred. A soft touch lingered on her hands, waist, and cheeks, though she was unsure of who it belonged to. As she looked around, she realized that she was in the red-haired woman's cabin. She had heard her name before, though she was half-awake, she remembered it clearly. Ysolda...yes, that must be it. _Ysolda...taking in...young lady...the night? _Was all she could remember from the past hour or so. As Ivy attempted to sit up, she felt a twinge in her palms. Lifting her hands, she saw that her palms were burned. Hissing, she crossed to a wash basin and poured water into it, washing her hands. Surprisingly, the burns washed away and the pain vanished, too. Looking to wash away her worries along with the burns, Ivy went to the kitchen, looking for the bowl of fruits and berries that Ysolda kept on a shelf near the fire. After dropping juniper and snow berry into a pot and boiling it, Ivy relaxed at the table with a book titled 'A Brief History of the Empire vl. 1'. An hour or so later, Ysolda returned home. "Good evening." She greeted Ivy dully, pulling off her boots and disappearing into the doorless bedroom. "Here. Money for clothes and armour...anything you need, really." Ysolda swung around the doorframe, and tossed two bulging coinpurses to Ivy. "Thank you, for both letting me stay here and providing me food and such." She thanked the Nord. "It's nothing." Ysolda smiled. "I'm going to bed now. The shops will be open around eight tomorrow. Good night, Ivy." With that, she disappeared, once again, into the bedroom.

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**Again, sorry for the short chapter, but the next one is too eventful to mix in with this one. See ya later! (Maybe in a few minutes!)**


	5. Chapter 5 Spiraling Down

Ivy awoke to the sound of laughter and loud chatter in the streets. "Why is everyone so excited today?" She asked Ysolda, bending over to tuck her bedroll away in the corner. "A traveling caravan is coming into the city. They come every few months-show their talents, sell their goods, and entertain the residents." She explained, stirring her pot of stew. "All of the residents from the smaller towns come and join the closest city. It's quite interesting. Windhelm is the only city that won't allow the caravan, because it consists of other races, not only Nords." Ivy pulled one of Ysolda's dresses over her head and tied her coin purses to her belt. "Are you going out?" Ysolda asked, glancing over her shoulder at Ivy. She nodded. "The shops are labeled by their signs, so they shouldn't be so hard to find." Ivy departed with a quiet goodbye.

The streets were crowded with people in town for the caravan show. Eventually, she reached the smith. "May I help you?" The woman tending to the forge asked impatiently. "Yes, actually. What have you got for sale?" Ivy asked, throwing a glare at a man who knocked her sideways and into the workbench. "Tools, wares, and weapons." She smiled, but the annoyed expression still kept. Ivy searched through her chest of armour, eventually choosing a green hunting tunic and brown skirt. "Thank you, ma'am." She said, handing her enough septims to pay for the armour. Ivy made her way across the street, ending up outside a hunting store. "Ah, hello, hello." The man at the counter said, pushing a bow across the counter to catch her attention. "Good morning. I'm looking for a bow." The elf dove behind the counter and retrieved a bow engraved with swirls representing fire. "I acquired this at the last caravan show. I have a quiver with arrows to match, if you're interested." He never took his eyes away from the weapon, entranced by its beauty. "I'll take it." She said, tossing him a whole coin purse. "And those boots, how much are they?" Ivy gestured at a pair of black boots with laces on a high shelf. "Oh, those are ages old. If you're really willing to take them, ten septims will suffice." The man pulled out a stool and blew the dust off of them, reaching for a bundle of fabric, too. "For your generous business, I'll throw in this cloak." She slid ten gold coins over the counter and picked up her purchases, turning to leave.

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Vilkas leaned against Anoriath's stall, chatting animatedly with him about hunting. Then he saw her. The girl who's name he never learned. She wore a green tunic with pinched sleeves, a brown skirt that flared slightly, and black boots with laces that were tied in loopy ovals. A bow made of oak and spruce was slung over her shoulder. Carvings of fire were drawn across the surface, matching the detailed quiver that was stock full of Orcish arrows. "You're geared up." He observed, once she got within earshot. "I'll take that as a compliment." She replied, crossing her arms. "You know, I never did learn your name." He hinted. "Ivy." She introduced herself. It was odd, but Vilkas felt like he already knew so much about her without even knowing her name. "Vilkas." He said in return, eyes wandering to the crowd. "Would you...acompany me to the show tonight?" He glanced back at her stunned face briefly. "Why not? I'd love to." She answered, once she composed herself. "See ya tonight." She walked off. "Meet in Jorvaskr!" He called. She waved a hand to acknowledge his words. _That went well._

Vilkas tapped his foot impatiently, glancing at the dimming light every few seconds. The doors opened. Ivy entered, still wearing her armour; the only thing that had changed was her hairstyle. "Who're you?" Njada stopped her at the doorway. Ivy brushed a strand of hair back into her ponytail and stood straighter. "Who're _you_ to be demanding of a noble?" She asked, glaring. "Sorry, milday!" Njada stepped aside, though she still looked suspicous. As they made their way through the streets, Vilkas asked, "Are you really a noble?" Ivy glanced at him and answered, "Nope." Her smile was illuminated by a guard's torch, making her appear angel-like. As the crowd thickened, Vilkas locked their arms. An impatient man pushed past them, throwing Ivy into Vilkas' arms. "Are you alright?" He chuckled, standing her back up. "I'm fine." She answered, glaring back at the crowd. Being with the Companions, Vilkas managed to get them close to the front of the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...!"

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After the show (consisting of 'fire breathing' Argonians, the effects of Falmer blood elixir, an amazing pickpocket, and a lively magician) the stalls lining the streets opened. From the gates all the way to Dragonsreach, merchants could be heard calling out to passerbys. Vilkas and Ivy strolled along the streets, stopping to scan interesting looking stalls. "Swords by the hundreds! One-handed, two-handed, daggers, and bows!" A frail looking man called from behind a counter. The two paused and, while Vilkas inquired about the price of a one-handed sword, the small man's attention was focused on Ivy. "Excuse me, sir, but I must say, I have a sword that would suit friend here very well..." The man dove under his counter and, huffing and puffing, resurfaced with a sword. It was a dark violet, with bits of steel shining beneath its finished. A groove up the middle was coloured with indigo; the hilt was decorated with carvings of fire and an odd symbol in the middle. He slid it across the counter towards Ivy, eyes still fixed on the blade. Ivy reached for it, running her hand along the flat side of the blade and across the hilt. "How much are you selling it for?" She demanded suddenly, glancing down at him. "It's yours. I know it. Just take it. I've no use for it, since it was destined for you." Before she could ask what he meant, Vilkas and herself were swept away by the crowd. "What do you think he meant?" She asked Vilkas. "I don't know. Maybe a family sword, or something?" Ivy shook her head. "As far as I know, we didn't have a family weapon." Vilkas glanced down at her. "'didn't'?"

"Yes. Didn't."

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**Whew...that chapter's over. The sword was something that my sister made for me. She even added a groove in the side for blocking! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. =-)**

**Hehe.**


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